Crap.
I owe you an explanation. You, who may vaguely remember me. It’s been a while.
In fact, I’ve been working on my explanation for ages. Because I disappeared. Vanished from the ‘sphere. Went blogger-AWOL.
But honestly, I get bummed out every time I start telling you what happened. That is poison for a humor blogger and storyteller.
So I haven’t told the story here. I hope this time is a bit different. That I can tell the story. That I can get it out, so the Ziggy cloud over my head becomes more identifiable. More understandable. Well, I am going to try.
You see, I lost my straight man. My partner. My best friend. My personal Google. My husband, John.
And can I just tell you that I’m pissed? I was supposed to die first. After all, if you remember me, I’ve been sick all my life. Since I was about 15! I’m not going to set any longevity records.
John? Healthy as a horse. Ate well, exercised, timed himself brushing his teeth. Until he wasn’t. Suddenly, in the spring/summer of 2019, John was diagnosed with cancer. And not one of the good kinds (as if there are any good cancers). A cancer with poor treatment options and poorer outcomes.
Pancreatic cancer is evil. And relatively quick.
So my wonderful husband passed away last summer.
https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/washingtonpost/name/john-kingery-obituary?id=36024672
Jacob and I held a wonderful send-off for him last fall. We held it at a favorite Pizza/Brew Pub, with music provided by a Scottish duo – bagpipes, fiddles, guitar. A great group of folks came from all over the country and even from Europe: family, friends of ours from all times of our lives, colleagues. It was a party that even my introverted husband would have loved. I wish he’d been there in more than just spirit.
Jacob and I spread John’s ashes in the Cove in Maine.
That night we looked out over the Cove shimmering in the moonlight.
“I can just see your dad kayaking out there,” I said to Jacob.
“Mom,” responded Jacob, “I’m pretty sure he’s body surfing.”
FiftyFourandAHalf 
I’m so, so sorry to hear this. I’ve been away for about nine years, I think, and am trying to see if anybody is still out here. You have my condolences as I, too, lost my John.
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Dearest friend, I knew of your husband’s passing, and send my condolences yet again. I do hope he is body surfing out there. It’s the rawest of deals. For what it’s worth, I’m happy you’re back here and telling your story, and I hope you find the humour again and grace us with more words, because you are one of my heroes.
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I’m so sorry for your loss, Elyse.
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Thanks, Jaded. It does suck. But I’m ok, and he’s out of his misery. So we’ve got that going for us.
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I’m a bit late to the party but shit. I’m so sorry to hear about your beloved. I’d have gone AWOL too. Reminds me that I still need to spread the rest of Dad’s ashes off our cove in Maine. Welcome back (hugs!).
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Not very late, I only posted it last week. And since I’ve been gone for ages, there is no pressure.
And thanks for your condolences.
I urge you to spread those ashes. It gave both Jacob and I a lot of comfort.
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Dear Elyse,
I’m so very sorry for your loss. I wish I had some words to magically make your pain subside. Unfortunately, when it comes to grief and loss, we’ve yet to invent those magic words. Time is all we really have that helps the pain subside. Though, time often seems so very slow when we grieve. That all sounds trite, I imagine, but it’s sincerely meant.
I don’t know if you still remember me (my old blog was called Johnbalaya). You always had wise words for me while I was caring for my mom. I wish I had some words of wisdom to return the favor.
I started a new blog though I haven’t gotten far with it. Then there was an epidemic. I’m still trying to find my writing voice again. I have kept up reading my favorite bloggers (several of whom have been silent as well). I’ve popped in here from time to time, in case I missed a notification. I’ve always enjoyed your humor.
I’m glad to hear your voice, even if it’s sharing very sad news. Again, my condolences on your loss.
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Hi John! Of course I remember you. Among other things, you reminded me to play more Roseann Cash! I hope you are well.
Thanks for your condolences. It is sad and hard to lose him. He was unfailingly good to me; I was very lucky even if it didn’t last as long as it should have. But that’s life, and death again.
I recall your blogs about life with your Mom; i don’t know if you are still caretaking, or if she has passed. I hope that whatever your situation is, you are well.
I’m still trying to find my writing voice again, too. I think it’s like singing; if you stop, it’s hard to start again, and we certainly don’t sound as good! Good luck with it!
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I cant imagine what that is like. But I know you’re keeping on with grace and style, because that’s who you are.
I’m so sorry!
Rock on, Elyse.
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Hey Guap!
I hope you’re well. And your wonderful wife.
It’s strange, actually. At first there is relief, because cancer. Lots to do. And then reality hit. And you realize just what a hole there is in my heart.
But I was lucky. I didn’t always realize it, but I realized it often enough. And I still think every day how lucky I was. For too short a time, but very lucky indeed.
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I’m so sorry to hear this, Elyse. I would keep an eye out for you periodically and wondered how you were. How tragic you lost your John. Be well. – Marty
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Thank you, Marty. It is sad, and I’m a bit lost at times. I miss him terribly.
I hope you’re well.
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Nice post
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Thanks
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Elyse, I’m so sorry to hear about your loss of John. Please consider sharing more of your lovely memories of him with us. Your pieces that included him in the past always made me feel like I knew him a little. I have found that writing about someone you love is a way of continually introducing them to new people and keeping them with us.
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I hope you will continue to post Elyse. Understandably, you have had much more on your mind than blogging. I am so sorry for your loss.
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Your loss was especially moving for me because my own wife, here late in life, is experiencing serious health problems. We’ve been married for 62 happy tumultuous years now, so we’re pretty much joined at the hip. Your post makes me grateful that we’ve had the extra time, but I want more, always more. I hope you will continue posting, Elise. You are a good person and a wonderful writer.
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Jim, I am sorry to learn of your wife’s failing health. I know too well how hard it is to watch and be unable to make the illness go away.
The two of you are indeed fortunate. But as you say, we always want more.
Be sure to say all the things you want to say. I regret not saying some things because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But goodbye came before I was ready to say it. 💔
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I am so very sorry for the loss of your husband. Pancreatic cancer is the absolute worst. Hoping your heart feels a wee bit lighter with each passing day💕
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So beautiful and bittersweet. Glad to see you back. ❤️
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Thanks.
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My heart goes out to you, Elyse. This was a beautiful post … you succeeded in letting us know where you had disappeared to and why, and I know all of us feel sad for you, but we hope to see more of you soon. You have been missed. Hugs
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Thanks, Jill.
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Oh, Elyse. I was so happy to see you in my inbox. Then I read the post…
I’m so, so sorry, Elyse. Yes, you can be pissed. We all grieve in our own ways. Handle it how you must…there is no wrong way.
🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂
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Thanks, TD. The range of emotions runs the gamut. Pissed is more in line with my blog, though.
I have often thought of you and your boys. The twins must be grown by now. I hope all three are well and happy, and that you are too.
❤️
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Me and C have had a rough go this, year, but the twins are both well and 23 now.
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He has always been a handful! I hope you’re working things out.
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Yeah, it’s working out. Just a rough patch for him and trying to navigate the world as a 12 year old with access to see stupid people on the internet do stupid things and thinking it’s funny…
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I don’t envy you that stuff. It was hard enough when Jacob was loving all those Jackass movies! Good luck with it. I made it through; you will too!
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I’ve heard it can be very hard to lose a spouse. What a great marriage you must have had, for this to be such a tough thing to deal with.
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Hey, Tippy.
Yes. It’s a hard loss. An empty chair and a broken heart.
John was unfailingly good to me. So I was lucky for 35 years. Not as long as I would have liked, but many people in longer relationships can’t look back with love. I can. So I have to add a layer of contentment to the hurt. And that helps.
Sending ❤️
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I’ve missed your blog, so it was nice hearing from you. Take care.
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I can add only two little things. First, my deepest condolences on top of everybody else. And second, if you need a straight man named John, well, I am retired, after all, and in need of a good side gig. It would be an honour and a privilege.
And remember the words of a wise country doctor from the 24th century – “He’s not really dead. As long as we remember him.” (Dr. L.H. McCoy)
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Thanks, John, for the condolences and the offer to be my straight man. We’ll see!
Love the quote.
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Well, if you need me, just whistle. You know how to do that, right? (Hey, my quotes aren’t just limited to Star Trek! 😉 )
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🤣
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I love that your John’s last words were the last words he heard, too…that says so much about your story. I am so, so sorry for your loss, Elyse.
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We were all lucky with that. 🙂
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Tough waters to navigate. You did a nice job steering.
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🫤😢❤️💔
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Thanks. It is hard to write about.
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We’ll isn’t John a party pooper…
Heartbroken for you and your boy. “Body surfing.” I know where he’s inherited his wit from.
I hope you keep writing, Elyse. I love your words. And now I’m going to be thinking of you All. The. Time., so please keep posting.
Enormous cosmic hug,
Lisa
Lisa Ann Millar
(Your writing pal from that Gotham humour course a dozen years ago)
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Lisa!! Hope you’re well. I hope I can/will. But everything is so gloomy!!
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I’m sending you light. and much love.
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Oh no! I am so very sorry! Hugs from Arizona are coming your way!
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Thanks, Luanne. Hugs are always appreciated.
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XO
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I am so sorry. Pancreatic cancer is a bad one. You’ve been missed. Welcome back!
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Thanks, Kate. Yes. It’s a scourge. One of a handful of cancers they can’t do much about. Sadly.
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Those last words said and heard made me smile, and made me sad.
Welcome back.
You were missed.
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Thanks, Barb. Jacob has been invaluable for all this time. Strong, helpful, and hilarious. Wherever did he get his black humor from, I wonder.
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I am so very sorry for your loss. Love the last sentence from Jacob. Wonderful.
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❤️💔
Jacob has been a rock. I couldn’t be more proud of him.
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So glad you’re not alone Elyse.
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❤️ Me too.
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💔 So glad you’ve started writing again.
>
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We’ll see. I’d like to.
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Awww. It’s nice to see you return, and I’m so sorry for the reason of your prolonged absence. Devastating.
Welcome back. I hope your blog is able to offer an outlet or pathway toward healing. XO
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Thanks, Alison. I hope so.
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Well, you made me smile in two ways …. the post … and your explanation in your style. Nonetheless, my heart wept for you and I thank you for telling us. Keep smiling and continue to be strong … and of course I invite you to take a walk. I only have 201 essays for you to catch up. But with my blog break about to start, you have time! 🙂 https://beachwalkreflections.wordpress.com/
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Yes, it’s hard to write. I haven’t in ages. Reading is hard too. With time … I spent the summer by the sea, and that helped immensely.
Glad you’re still writing, Frank.
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I’m sure writing this post was hard … and tears flowed …. but you did it!
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Hmmmm. So, you’ve been here all along. Pull up a chair. I’ve made tea.
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